


Passing Notes

by bakers_impala221



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker-fic, Canon-universe, Destiel - Freeform, Diners, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Note-passing, Oneshot, Romance, canon-divergent, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23949145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakers_impala221/pseuds/bakers_impala221
Summary: Dean and Cas start passing notes to each other. It begins with a simple joke, but after a while gathers momentum and sincerity.can I kiss you , Y or N, Dean wrote quickly, heart beating wildly in his ears. He shoved it back towards Cas.Cas took the pen, wrote on the napkin, then pushed it back.Thought you’d never ask.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 34
Kudos: 118





	Passing Notes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TANSTAAFL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TANSTAAFL/gifts).



> Inspired by one of TANSTAAFL's comments on [Golden Gates](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23679400/chapters/56847331)
> 
> "Maybe passing the note to each other is a nod to how they got together in the first place - Dean writing "can I kiss you , Y or N " on a small napkin and sliding it across the diner table and Cas adding a third box "Thought you'd never ask" before checking it and sliding it back. With Sam looking on from across the booth with a bemused grin."
> 
> Thank you so much, Zlata, for that daydream-y tangent train of thought. Together... we created this. This is our legacy.

‘Even Patience, here, got a kill in tonight; little miss “ _I don’t wanna hunt.”_ ’

Dean grinned at Donna. ‘Oh, yeah?’

‘The girls have all got such ferocity about ‘em,’ she continued, wearing her usual massive smile, voice coated in pride.

Cas leaned in from Dean’s left.

‘Which one was Patience?’ he whispered, trying not to let any one of the women overhear him.

Dean grinned, amused.

For dramatic effect, he grabbed the pen sitting at the table with the cheque, and scribbled quickly onto his napkin, half mocking Cas’ attempts at polite _subtlety_ of confusion.

 **_Psychic_ ** _._

Dean prepared to laugh silently at him, but when Cas’ frown turned to him gratefully and he nodded a small gesture of thanks, all undertones of humour evaporated, and instead, Dean felt kinda warm inside.

The next time they were at a diner, Dean was talking to Sam about the werewolf case two towns over, when Sam excused himself and got up to leave for the bathroom.

The waiter, conveniently having chosen that moment to offer her top-notch diner services, walked up to the table, pen and pad in hand.

‘What’ll it be, fellas?’ she asked, tone bright.

Dean looked between the woman and his friend. Cas had his eyes downcast, set on the menu.

‘I think Sam would like the spinach meal,’ he said thoughtfully, loud enough for the both of them to hear.

‘Alrighty, then. The “spinach meal” for Sammy, and… bacon burger for me, thanks,’ Dean said brightly. He turned to glance around, searching for the bathroom door Sam had portalled off through.

‘Perfect,’ she said, writing notes on her pad. ‘And anything for the lovely one over there?’ she asked, pointing at Cas.

Cas shifted in his seat, blushing. ‘Uh, nothing for me, thanks.’

As the waiter left, Dean turned to grin at his friend.

Just as he was about to speak, Sam’s giant figure stooped into the booth’s bench seat across from his family. Noticing the waiter walking away from the table, he turned to Dean. ‘What’d you order me?’ he asked, seeming borderline scared.

Before Dean could make a joking comment about the shit-plate he’d requested on behalf of his brother, Cas piped up.

‘I suggested we order the spinach meal.’

Visibly relaxing, Sam nodded his thanks.

‘She also gave me a number out of courtesy,’ he added, lightly pushing a leaf of paper across the table to reveal a ten-digit number.

Sam huffed a laugh as Dean responded: ‘That’s not outta “courtesy,” man.’

Cas frowned in confusion.

Dean grabbed a pen from the cutlery holder at the edge of the table, eyeing Sam, who had turned away, eyes fixed on the computer.

He pulled the nearest napkin towards him and scribbled onto it before his brother could notice, aware of the Cas’ attentive stare from next to him.

Then he shoved it over.

**_It’s called flirting, Cas_ **

A few months later, Dean had begun carrying a pen with him wherever he went, mostly just out of habit.

It seemed weird and nerdy for him, like he had been slowly demoted from ‘hunter’ to ‘paper-pusher,’ or something; keeping a pen clipped to the shirt pocket beneath his jacket like some kinda business man (Dean, admittedly, didn’t know a whole lot about business or working-life.)

There had been a few times it had been kind of amusing (particularly to Sam), like when Dean had procured a pen from his pocket, making the hotel receptionist laugh politely at his preparedness.

To the opposite effect of that, he’d learned to keep the pen hidden after they’d stumbled on a case being worked by a hunter-acquaintance (old friend of Bobby’s), and he’d taken the pen from his pocket unconsciously to sign the diner’s cheque, only to be laughed at in response.

Embarrassed, he’d laughed it off. He could see the tan coat in his peripheral, refusing to look over at his friend. When he finally did, the angel seemed tense, glaring at Robin- or Dave -or whatever the hell the guy’s name was- for the rest of the night. Dean was kinda proud. But he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the guy when Cas walked off instead of shaking his proffered hand, refusing to acknowledge the other hunter’s post-case goodbye.

The first time the notes really started to _mean_ anything was one day after Sam had left the dinner table.

Cas had leaned back against the kitchen wall in their bunker, looking content and sort of half-asleep, when Dean suddenly reached for a napkin.

 ** _Remember when you used to watch me sleep?_** He wrote, then slid it across the table, grinning an amused smile.

Cas leaned forwards, smiling as he read the message.

Dean had meant for it to be rhetorical; just the humorous reminiscing of the old days before Cas had finally begun to really learn the social expectations of conduct. Say… not watching people sleep, for example.

So, he was surprised when Cas held out his hand, silently beckoning for the pen.

Dean handed it over, frowning as he watched the hand’s steady, sure motions slide across the napkin with far less resistance than Dean usually managed to avoid.

Cas slid back the napkin so that Dean could read it, setting down the pen nearby.

The paper wasn’t ripped where the black ink had settled into it, albeit slightly fuzzily.

 ** _I do_**. Was all it said.

Dean shivered slightly at the connotations. Dude probably hadn’t even noticed, he reasoned.

He shuffled in his seat, reaching out his arm to grab the pen.

Underneath the space Cas had left, he wrote back.

**_Dude you were weird back then_ **

Without thinking, Dean slid it back. In the less-than-a-second before Cas had fully read the message, Dean internally panicked. What if that was rude? He thought.

Less-than-a-second later, Cas smiled in mirth. Slightly nodding in agreement.

He reached towards Dean’s hand, sliding the pen from between his relaxed fingers and wrote his reply.

**_You looked so peaceful when you slept. It was quite breathtaking._ **

Dean’s heart stuttered in his chest.

Cas looked back down at the paper after gauging a response, quickly rethinking something, and adding on a scribbled **_(Metaphorically, of course. I didn’t need to breathe.)_**

Nerves aside, Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

 ** _I’m just that adorable_** , he wrote back after procuring the biro from his friend’s hand.

Cas didn’t reach for the pen again. The napkin was covered anyway. Instead, he just smiled at Dean, soft and full of the sort of adoration Dean would never admit to either seeing or feeling.

Dean just grinned back before standing up from the table, leaving for his room.

The next morning, as he made his way back into the kitchen for breakfast, the napkin was noticeably gone.

After that, the notes had generally gotten less conversational, and became more just passing remarks.

After a hunt north of Wichita, Dean wrote: **_You did good today, man_**

During an angel investigation somewhere in Wisconsin, Dean left the note in the motel room: **_sorry bout the angel killings, buddy_**

In Rockford, Illinois: **_you look good today :)_**

In Peoria: **_how dyou think sam gets his hair so shiny?_**

Springfield: **_ugh, I hate witches, man_**

Cold Oak: **_news said it was gonna be cold tomorrow. Ugh, can’t believe I actually watched the news. Sams a bad influence_**

Joliet, from Cas: **_You look nice today, Dean._**

In Lincoln: **_the looks that guy was giving you back at that bar? Man, if you were into it, you shoulda gone for it_**

**_I wasn’t interested, Dean. But I appreciate the support._ **

**_Not into men, then?_ **

**_I am indifferent to gender identity and sexuality._ **

**_Oh, cool… whatever that means_ **

**_It simply means gender is not a contributing factor for me._ **

**_Well good for you man, I guess_ **

In Lincoln: **_You seemed uneasy today. Is something wrong?_**

**_Nah I’m good_ **

**_You sure?_ **

Dearborn: **_what if I told you_**

**_that sometimes I find guys hot?_ **

**_There is nothing wrong with that, Dean._ **

Whitefish: **_I think you’re really hot_**

**_Thank you, Dean. The sentiment is requited._ **

It had been almost a year since they’d visited either Donna or Jody. Dropping by Sioux Falls for a few days, the lot of them -wayward sisters, and all- trudged down to the local diner.

‘Best damn burger in the city,’ Donna enthused, ushering the crowding family into the building.

When Cas took a seat next to Claire, Dean instinctively shoved past Sam to sit next to him.

The group fell into easy conversation. Sam discussed the benefits of the digestion of some gross-sounding plant to Jody, who listened with motherly enthusiasm. Claire and Cas were engaged in a debate about werewolves, which basically just consisted of Claire describing her favourite manoeuvres while Cas attempted -to no avail- to discourage her solo hunting. Donna and Dean were discussing their favourite burgers (Donna was quite impressed at the range Dean had eaten over the years), while Patience and Alex were engaged in a quieter conversation which, from what Dean could catch glimpses of, sounded like it had something to do with college options.

Eventually, all conversation eased up a little. Dean celebrated when his food arrived looking greasy as ever, subsequently receiving disapproving looks from Sam from across the table.

Eyeing the space (specifically, lack of) between his and Cas’ shoulders, Claire piped up.

‘So, what, you two together now, or something?’

Dean froze, burger held mid-air in confusion. He looked over at Cas before he spoke, laughing uncomfortably.

‘We’re… we’re not…’ He looked down at his plate, avoiding eye contact with anyone, before taking a bite out of his burger, desperate for some kind of distraction for the table. He’d have even paid good money for a heart attack right about now, if it were offered. Where’s a good cardiac arrest when you need one?

Cas barely moved, casual and unphased. ‘No. Dean and I are not engaged in-’

Dean’s head whipped up from the table to give him a _look_ , and Cas suddenly cut off his sentence, rethinking his words.

‘…do not have an established romantic relationship,’ he clarified.

Dean pointedly ignored Sam and Jody’s “knowing” smirks.

 _“Knowing smirks,” my ass_ , Dean thought, huffing internally.

Claire shrugged.

‘Maybe it’s about time you do,’ she suggested.

Dean refused to look up from his burger for a full 20 minutes after that.

When Jody had started talking about Patience’s work in school, face full of pride as she explained that her results had gotten her many acceptances to college, and Dean was sure the attention had been fully diverted to the psychic in turn, Dean slowly pulled the pen from his jacket pocket and wrote subtly on the nearest napkin.

**_how you doing, man?_ **

Cas took the pen from where Dean had it held out beneath the table.

**_I’m well, Dean. Thank you._ **

For a while, Dean left it at that, staring back and forth between the unfinished food and conversation he was hardly listening to.

He’d manage to go through two burgers (one being, by technicality, Cas’) and one and a half servings of fries. He’d only just finally stopped eating.

A few minutes into some conversation about the gardening Alex had been trying out recently, Dean slowly took the pen again.

Across the table, out of his peripheral vision, he could see Sam watching him, squinting his eyes in a deductive look.

Dean pulled his hand under the table. Eventually began unconsciously tapping the pen against his knee.

His mind was whirring, only very vaguely listening to the conversation around the table now, mind almost entirely elsewhere.

In a surge of monumental courage, Dean took the napkin still resting near Cas, by his coffee mug, and slid it across the table, pulling it towards himself.

 ** _can I kiss you , Y or N_** , he wrote quickly, heart beating wildly in his ears. He shoved it back towards Cas.

Cas seemed surprised, feeling the sharpness against his elbow where Dean had accidentally hit him. Following the movement, Cas looked down to read the message.

Dean’s heart was racing; it was so fast Dean wasn’t sure he could count the beats even if he tried. Cas tugged at the pen in his hand, drawing it from him. He then lifted his hand to the napkin, drew a box beneath Dean’s note, writing something adjacent, before ticking it.

He slid the note back towards him. Dean could feel his heart in his throat, pounding at him like it was attempting to explode.

Dean read the words.

**_Thought you’d never ask._ **

Time seemed to stop for barely a moment, before restarting again. He looked up at Cas and grinned, taking ahold of his tie and pulling him in.

For a brief moment, the world seemed to disappear, and Dean felt strangely disconnected, like he’d shrunk back into the vessel of himself.

Then it was like the overhead lights flickered on again, illuminating the diner and their small party, and Dean, regaining consciousness, moved his free hand up to frame the angel’s face.

When they pulled apart, Dean leaned back in his chair, grinning to himself, glancing over at Sam’s bemused smile before eyeing Cas to gauge his response.

He grinned even wider when he did; the angel’s hair slightly more ruffled than usual and his lips wearing a small, private smile he aimed in Dean’s direction.

Dean felt like he’d just won the lottery. He looked down at his abandoned chips, picking some up to bring to his mouth. He shoved them in, mouth bulging around the food as he looked over to his boyfriend and winked.

**Author's Note:**

> To point out the most obvious question:  
> Who the fuck orders a “spinach meal?" 😂


End file.
